


I must go on standing, you can't break that which isn't yours

by saris



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:37:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1669910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saris/pseuds/saris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You might not want to pull on that thread." And then she walked away.<br/>That was how the script was supposed to work, what the training had taught her: when you're burned, you run to ground and stay there until the smoke clears enough to see past your hands. Leave the weak behind, move forward, eye on the horizon. But this time, Natalia Romanova couldn't walk away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let me begin by saying, I am absolutely on the bandwagon of "Captain America 3: Steve And Sam Go On A Hijinks-Filled Road Trip". And yet somehow I came up with this idea and then it became a compulsion and...well.
> 
> It's still in progress (I know, I'm sorry) but I hope that if I put this online I'll be forced to actually finish something for once. Thanks to [Emily](http://glitzandshadows.tumblr.com) for being my beta/sounding board.
> 
> Title is from Après Mois by Regina Spektor and can I just say, if you want to have any sort of overwhelming Bucky emotions, you should listen to her for like ten hours straight.

"You might not want to pull on that thread." And then she walked away.

  
That was how the script was supposed to work, what the training had taught her: when you're burned, you run to ground and stay there until the smoke clears enough to see past your hands. Leave the weak behind, move forward, eye on the horizon. But this time, Natalia Romanova couldn't walk away. She had too much red in her ledger, much more than giving Steve Rogers the dossier would ever clear.

  
So she pulled some threads of her own, tearing open seams for the possiblilty of redemption.

\--

His last three safe houses had been compromised shortly after he had gotten settled in (not settled, too permanent; acclimated) and he'd been sleeping under bridges for a week before he saw the notice. When he had been on assignment with no direct contact possible to his handlers they had used innocuous seeming posters to share intel. Sure, everyone saw "LOST DOG" but who really looked any closer - and if they did, how could they find something that didn't actually exist?

  
The plea for help was ordinary enough, but the picture...

  
He traced the image with a steady fingertip - behind the animal, a poster of the constellation Орион, the hunter. It was simple enough to put together the information: an address, a time. Not a location he had used before, but something caused a whisper in his mind. "Brooklyn," he muttered, brushing the pads of his real fingers across the paper again and willing the whisper to become something louder. "My mission."

\--

The children were filing out under his steady gaze as he stood in the shadows of the alley across the street. An operative was never on time, to be so would mean being early to their death. His internal clock had adjusted to this time zone weeks ago and he knew he was 53 minutes early to meet his handlers, but he wouldn't risk any traps they would have laid for him. An innocent enough city block for this area, not apartment buildings crushed together but singular residences, their own existences separate from each other and the mainland.

  
He couldn't properly classify the use of the building before him, however. This many children should have meant a school, but from what he knew of American culture their learning would have ended hours before and none of them carried any visible books or papers with them, just duffel bags and backpacks stuffed with what looked like cloth. The front of the building was large panes of glass showing an open room, the mirrors on the other wall reflecting the ending day and the images of the youths. He watched as a small blonde woman swept the floor after everyone else had left, her movements graceful as she cleared away all evidence, and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as if to will himself from harming her.

  
"Incredible, isn't it?" He had sensed a presence behind him but assumed it was a cat; plenty of wildlife on the streets that had made him jump at every sound his first weeks outside until he adjusted his senses. Knife immediately in hand, he whirled around to face the voice and assess the situation until the whisper in his head caused him to focus on the woman's features.

  
"You're..." His voice cracked, trying to find the right words. <<красный.>>

  
"Yes, but I prefer black." Her lips tightened into a smile. <<черный.>>

  
Neither of them moved until a crash sounded from the end of the alley. Attuned to every movement now, he hesitated a fraction of a second, allowing her to step forward into his arm's reach as she raised her hands peacefully."I won't hurt you. I'm here as help."

  
"Help?"

  
"If you'll accept." She lowered her arms partially, holding them palm up towards him as if in offering. "I know what it's like to come in from a Russian winter."

  
"You know him. My mission." He glared at her hands; she was offering him something he didn't want to willingly take. "You are his ally, my enemy."

  
She shrugged, slowly stepping around him toward the mouth of the alley. "You are burned, Winter Soldier. Your handlers are gone. There are no other missions left for you. He is hunting for you. Do you think you could complete your mission in this state?" Deliberately turning her back on him, she began to cross the street. "It is your choice."

  
He waited in the growing gloom, watching her walk towards the building.


	2. you fix a bird you buy a cage, you fix a man and he flies away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look I wrote more
> 
> thanks to [Emily](http://glitzandshadows.tumblr.com) for more of the betaing and [Elude](http://iggyperrish.tumblr.com) for moral support and advising. 
> 
> title is from [Seamstress by Dessa](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnPfTNQDz4g) and credit for thinking of it goes to [Olli](http://dr-ollipop.tumblr.com).

She showed no outward acknowledgment of his presence behind her, just calmly unlocked the door and left it open enough for him to slip through.

"What is this place?"

"A dance studio. танцевальная студия." Getting no verbal response as she waited for him to close up behind her, she continued. "Also self-defense courses. I used to teach those, but as of late," she heaved a sigh, "I had to hire another instructor."

"You teach?" They had stopped abruptly at a closed door on which she placed her palm upon an innocuous-looking panel. It glowed blue, and the door lock clicked as she turned to him. "A way of paying debts." Her face told him nothing, eyes not even searching his like he would have expected from anyone else. "You can stay here if you'd like. I'll put your print into my system in the morning. This area is generally believed to be a storage closet, which it is as well." She moved aside, and he took the hint to move past her up the staircase in front of him.

A part of him had been expecting the room to be filled with armed personnel or _his mission_ , waiting to take him into custody and the chair, or simply a cement cell with bars. Instead, he faced a sparsely furnished room with a metal frame bed and nightstand to match.

"That door connects to the bathroom and the rest of the apartment. It's on the same system as the door downstairs." She demonstrated this for him, walking into the next room and leaving him alone to inspect the new terrain.

\--

Natalia pushed open the bathroom door with her shoulder and walked into the kitchen, mind more on where she had been than where she was going. Constantly evaluating situations was a significant part of her job and, like most people, she tended to bring her work home. No point in allowing second thoughts - any doubt would mean a fiery crash and the wrath of Steve Rogers upon her like the mighty fist of a god.

It wasn't the favors she had traded, the contacts she had used, or even letting him into one of her safe houses that she may have regretted for fractions of a second; it was simply that she let him into _this_ safe house.

The moment ground had been broken for this building she had sworn to herself that she would only use it for helping those who couldn't help themselves, for those that needed an escape, and she reaffirmed that vow at the sight of any happiness from a child she had helped.

Natalia Romanova had done some good in the world. It wasn't as part of a strike team or a higher power directing her actions, but an idea of her very own that changed peoples' lives in an overt and positive way.

But if she was going to be honest with herself, that was one of the reasons she had overruled the logical thoughts in her head and brought him here. Bucky Barnes, or the Winter Soldier or whoever he wanted to be now, would do more harm to others and himself if he was out in the cold. Even worse would be simply stashing him in a cabin out in the middle of the woods. Humans instinctively banded together and above all else, Natalia knew that the man needed to learn how to be more human than the machine they had made him into.

It would be good for everyone involved if the Widow kept an eye on her web - this was who they needed her to be right now. Not just a friend or a good spy, but a protector, everything all at once. If Sam or Steve asked her anything she wouldn't outright lie - friends don't do that - but to protect this man she had taken into her safe space, she wouldn't tell the whole truth either.

And to protect those she had already sworn a promise to, well...

"I won't keep you caged, Soldier, but if anything happens to a child or instructor, I will kill you." Natalia looked down at the mug she had been sliding between her palms absentmindedly on the kitchen counter and picked it up, muttering, "And to hell with Steve Rogers."

**Author's Note:**

> Орион - Orion, the hunter  
> красный - red  
> черный - black


End file.
